


you wouldn't like me (if you met me)

by baroquemirrors



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Field Hockey Gays (TM), Sports Rivals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroquemirrors/pseuds/baroquemirrors
Summary: “What’s your problem? It’s just a scrimmage.”“My problem?” Jamie repeats, her voice rising half an octave. “My problem is that we have a system, and you’re shit at following it." She’s less than a yard away now and still coming closer, leaning into Dani’s airspace like she’s daring her to do something about it.And then coach is there, stretching an arm out between them. “That’s enough! Break it up, ladies.”--inspired by early version of the script/deleted scenes that had the two of them initially disliking each other.
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Jamie
Comments: 26
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Field hockey, if you didn't know, is the best and gayest sport. 
> 
> 'One time I had a crush on a girl and I didn't know what to do about it, so I wrote her a note that said Get Out of My School' - Jamie Taylor, probably.
> 
> This was supposed to be a one-shot but it got away from me, so there will be two chapters. Hope you enjoy!

At seventeen years old, Dani Clayton has a life that's simple and tidy.

She’s a straight-A student, on track to get quite a few college acceptance letters. She has a reputation as the kind of teenager parents actually trust to watch their children, and consequently has a regular gig babysitting for several of her neighbors. She lives next door to Edmund O’Mara, who has been her best friend for about as long as she can remember.  And last year, in the county field hockey championship, she scored the winning goal on a beautifully improbable last-second shot to the top corner of the net. 

All of this seems to suggest that her life is headed in the right direction.

So if, realistically, she'll probably end up going to community college because it’s more affordable than a big state school—that’s not such a big deal, right? And if she spends most of her babysitting money on the groceries her mother keeps forgetting to buy, and if her friendship with Eddie has been a little weird lately because _his_ friends seem to think that they’re dating? Those are tolerable, manageable little blips.

But when her mom suddenly moves them across town, and she’s supposed to switch districts and play for her school's rival?  Well, suddenly it feels like her life is pretty much over.

***

It wouldn’t be so bad, she thinks, dropping her bag to the ground in the shade at the edge of the field, if they’d moved to any district except _this_ one.  But here she is, tugging on her shin guards before the first practice of the year, and she’s nearly done lacing up her cleats when she hears a voice behind her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

She turns around and finds herself looking at a pair of narrowed eyes, framed by brown curls made wild in the humidity, and she recognizes the face instantly as belonging to one Jamie Taylor.

They’ve played against each other several times in the past two years, and Dani has been on the receiving end of quite a few of Jamie’s stealthily thrown elbows or errant stick hacks to the ankle. She doesn’t play dirty, exactly, just hard--but right now she’s staring at Dani as though she’d very much like to drive a ball at her face. 

“Hi,” Dani says uncertainly. “I’m—“

Jamie’s jaw tightens. “I know who you are.” 

“Um, cool. Well. I transferred here, I guess. So….”  She trails off, the words hanging uncertainly in the air. 

“Did you know about this?” Jamie demands, turning to the person in goalie gear next to her. They shake their head, face invisible beneath their mask and helmet, and Jamie mutters something that’s mostly unintelligible except for a distinct and final: “Fuck.”

Dani looks down, cheeks burning, and resumes double-knotting her laces.

It’s not like she was expecting an overly friendly welcome. Just over a year ago she’d faced off against these same girls in the finals and come out on top, so there were bound to be some hard feelings.

It’s just the intensity of Jamie’s reaction—the intensity of her _stare_ , really—takes Dani a bit by surprise.

“Don’t worry about her.” A girl with long black hair drops her bag and sits down next to Dani, offering her a smile. “She’s mostly bite, that one. I’m Rebecca.” 

“Dani.”

“Yeah, your reputation kind of precedes you.” Her tone is teasing but friendly. “Half of these girls will try to run you off the field, you know.”

Dani nods, eyes on her lap, and plucks at a tuft of grass. “Yeah… I’m definitely getting that vibe.”

“Only for a few days though, and then they’ll get over it. Our best midfielder graduated last year, so we kind of need you.” 

Dani smiles at her gratefully, reaching for her stick as coach calls for the team to huddle up and begin practice.

It’s one of those blazing hot days you get sometimes when summer stretches into September, and Dani can already feel herself sweating—from heat, and also from nerves. But the heft of the stick in her hand is reassuring, and she thinks that once they get started, once she can concentrate on showing the rest of the team why she belongs here, she’ll feel better.

They run two laps of the field and circle up for some stretches, and it feels good, like it always does. Her body, capable and strong, moves exactly the way she needs it to; the constant buzz of her anxiety quiets to a low and manageable hum as her mind refocuses on the task at hand. 

But then coach tells them to partner up for drills and suddenly Dani’s looking around uncertainly at the rest of the girls, most of whom are either pointedly ignoring her or shooting skeptical looks in her direction. 

She stands there helplessly as they all pair off, until the only person left without a partner is—

“Taylor!” Coach barks. “You’re with Clayton.” 

_Shit_. Of course.

Jamie gives her a quick, hard glance, and then saunters off to the twenty-five yard line and settles into her playing stance.

Dani puts in her mouthguard and adjusts her sweaty grip on the stick.

For the first drill they’re supposed to receive a pass from their partner, perform a quick Indian dribble, and then push it back. With two balls in play simultaneously, it’s about learning to play in sync with your teammate, establishing a rhythm and adjusting to each other’s speed. It’s a dance, of sorts.

The first few passes go smoothly. Dani feels confident in her stick work. She’s just getting into the flow when Jamie unexpectedly hooks the ball left, and Dani has to flip her stick to stop it careening past. 

She’s still recovering, fumbling the dribble, when Jamie’s next pass slaps right into her ankle. 

“Hey,” she says sharply.

But Jamie leans against her stick, feigning boredom, and shrugs. “Not my fault you can’t keep up.”

Dani frowns, but says nothing; just gathers the ball for another pass and starts them going again.

She's ready this time. When Jamie makes another deliberately wild pass, Dani lunges after it quick enough to incorporate into her dribble with one fluid motion. Each time Jamie tries to throw her off she manages to recover, and soon she’s flipping the ball back so quickly that the pace is working against her partner instead. 

The grass is scorched brown and dying in the heat of the sun, the field more dirt than plant matter at this point, and the lack of resistance means the ball travels with alarming speed.  It doesn’t take long before they’re both struggling to keep up, breathing hard and fast with the effort.

In between passes, Dani glances up and finds Jamie staring back at her—cheeks flushed, beads of sweat gathering on her forehead, eyes almost fever-bright in the sunlight. There’s a determined set to her jaw, but otherwise her expression gives away nothing. 

“You’re really quick,” Dani offers breathlessly. 

It’s intended as an olive branch, but Jamie doesn’t take it.

If anything, her passes come even faster.

By the time coach whistles an end to the drill, the two of them are panting harder than anyone else on the team.  Dani lifts the bottom of her shirt to wipe at the sweat on her face, Jamie runs her fingers through the damp curls that have escaped her short ponytail, and coach glances from one girl to the other with a thoughtful expression and the barest hint of a smile. 

Jamie continues to say nothing. No _nice job_ , or _didn’t know you had it in you_ , or even _fuck, it’s hot out_ ; just gives Dani a level stare and then, eventually, turns away to murmur something to one of the other girls while coach starts explaining the next drill.

Which is fine, Dani decides. 

If Jamie wants to act like a total bitch, that’s her prerogative. 

They don’t have to like each other. 

***

Over the next few days Dani learns that scrimmaging against Jamie, even if only for ten minutes at a time, is an absolutely punishing experience.

She’s small for a defender, but she goes after the ball with brutal tenacity. Sometimes she’ll hack at Dani’s ankles under the guise of trying to make a tackle, or hook her stick pulling back from a missed jab. And once, although it could have been an accident, she beans Dani in the thigh with a clear-out drive while they’re practicing penalty corners. 

Soon Dani has more bruises blooming up and down her legs than she can remember accumulating over the course of entire seasons.

She makes the mistake of wearing a skirt one Sunday for brunch at the O’Mara’s, and when she sits down at the table Judy somehow notices the fresh purple welt on the back of her calf, along with the mottled green and yellow bruising from last week still visible on her shins. 

“Danielle, honey… I’m worried about you.”

Dani plucks at her skirt, trying too late to hide the evidence. “Oh, it’s okay. They don’t really hurt. Well I mean, they do at first. But not, you know… afterward.”

“Don’t you girls wear padding?” 

“We have shin guards,” she says evasively. 

She doesn’t mention the fact that her shin guards are literally just an inch of foam wrapped in a cloth sleeve, and do very little to protect against a hard plastic ball flying at full speed or a carbon-and-fiberglass stick with a lot of momentum behind it. She also doesn’t mention the nasty black eye Hannah got last week when the ball skipped up from a tuft of grass and hit her right in the face, or Rebecca’s fractured finger, which is currently splinted and taped to another finger and makes holding a stick very difficult. 

She omits these details because she knows that Judy and Eddie, and her mother, for that matter, have never been crazy about her playing hockey—would probably prefer it if she just played something _normal,_ like volleyball or soccer.

But the truth is that she’s proud of her bruises. Every one represents a lesson, or at least an opportunity to improve. 

And most of them have come courtesy of halfback Jamie Taylor. Who, after two weeks, still hasn’t cooled toward Dani at all.

“You need to meet your fucking passes,” she snarls, at the end of a brief scrimmage.

And Dani tries not to take the bait—tries _really_ hard, in fact—but Jamie is marching up to her with a blazing look in her eyes that suggests she’s unlikely to let the matter go.

So she replies, with as much calm as she can muster, “I can’t meet them if they’re always ten feet ahead of me.” 

“Guess you need to run faster, then.” 

Dani feels herself flush with embarrassment. “What’s your problem? It’s just a scrimmage.”

“My problem?” Jamie repeats, her voice rising half an octave. “My problem is that we have a system, and you’re shit at following it. If you yell out your field position like you’re calling for a pass, you better fucking get there. I’m sick of losing possession because you’re not where you're supposed to be.”

She’s less than a yard away now and still coming closer, leaning into Dani’s airspace like she’s daring her to do something about it. 

And then coach is there, stretching an arm out between them.

“That’s enough! Break it up, ladies.” 

Jamie turns away in disgust, storming off toward the shade of the pine trees.

Dani follows, gaze fixed on the ground, avoiding eye contact with everyone.  She grabs her water bottle and moves as far away from the rest of the group as possible. Her eyes sting with tears of frustration, and she dashes them away with one hand. The other is balled into a fist. She can feel her fingernails digging little half moon indentations into the flesh of her palm; digs them in even harder, trying to ground herself against the hot rush of panic rising in her chest. 

_Steady breaths_ , she reminds herself. Long one in, count to four, let it back out again. Steady. Calm. _You’re okay._

Except she isn’t. She fucking isn’t. This was supposed to be her year, her best year—finally an upperclassman, team captain within reach if the votes went her way. Not to mention all of the ordinary things she’s missing, like seeing her friends every day instead of sitting in a classroom full of strangers, and the way the light from the streetlamp using to fall through the window of her bedroom--which in their new house is a dark, office-sized rectangle at the back corner of the lot, its single window blocked by shrubbery. 

And now there’s this _thing_ with Jamie, who seems to hate her even though she hasn’t fucking done anything. 

Dani wipes at her eyes again and realizes that she’s standing alone at the corner of the field. 

By the time she gathers up her things and makes her way to the front of the school, the parking lot is pretty much empty. There are a few soccer players hanging out by the front doors, waiting for their rides; and over by the bike rack, passing a cigarette back and forth, are Jamie and Owen.

Dani’s nails dig into her palms again. She takes a deep breath, mustering her courage, and marches across the lot toward them.

Owen notices her first. “Dani,” he greets, looking slightly puzzled. “Do you need a ride, or…?” 

At the sound of her name, Jamie turns around to look at her. And maybe Dani’s imagining it, but she thinks she sees a hint of surprise beneath Jamie’s usual expression of cool indifference.

“Just so you know,” Dani tells them, folding her arms across her chest, “I didn’t ask for this.” 

“Um… right,” Owen says, uncertainly.

“Like, I know you don’t want me on the team.” She looks directly at Jamie. “But it wasn’t exactly my choice, either. I didn’t ask for my dad’s life insurance to run out, or for my mom to get behind on the mortgage payments.”

Jamie raises one eyebrow ever so slightly, and then glances away as she raises the cigarette to her lips.

“I keep up my grades,” Dani continues, her voice growing a little steadier. “And I babysit on the weekends, and I do everything I’m supposed to do. But we lost our house and had to move. So now I’m here. And I’m trying to make the best of it, but you’re making that really fucking difficult, actually. So just— just cut me some slack, okay?”

Jamie takes one last drag, then stubs the cigarette out against the concrete ledge. “Didn’t know your life was such a sob story, Poppins.” 

For a second, it makes Dani want to scream, because how can anyone be so _cold_ all the time? So flippant and rude and _infuriating_. 

But then she realizes that Jamie is looking at her, for the first time, with something like a hint of interest. And be fore Dani has time to consider that look, to puzzle out what it might mean, there’s a car pulling up alongside them.

Owen clears his throat. “This is us,” he says. “Are you sure you don’t need a lift home?”

Dani shakes her head and then watches them both climb into the backseat, behind a woman who looks like she must be Own’s mother.  The last thing she sees, as the car pulls away, is Jamie staring at her through the back window.

***

It takes time, but gradually it starts to feel like the other girls on the team are thawing toward her.

Having been the first to break the ice, Rebecca is also the easiest to get along with. She has taken to dropping her bag next to Dani’s while they gear up for practice, wincing sympathetically as Dani sprays liquid bandage on her blisters and offering tips on how to break new cleats in faster and with less pain.

Hannah is one of the captains, and also the sweep—the defender who lingers right above the goal, providing the last bit of resistance before it’s down to the goalie. The position seems to suit her personality; she’s steady as they come, good at tuning out the rest of the team’s bickering, and doesn’t mind having to clean up their mess if they let the opposing forwards break through their defense. 

Plus, playing close to the goal gives her plenty of opportunity to talk with Owen; or rather, it gives _him_ plenty of opportunity to make her laugh.

Eventually, Dani asks what she’s been curious about for weeks now: “Why is Owen on the girls team?” 

It's Jamie who answers, with her characteristic dry sarcasm. “You see any boys field hockey teams around, Clayton?” 

“I’m right here, you know,” Owen says indignantly, his voice muffled by his mask.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“S’my fault, anyway,” Jamie cuts in. “Made him practice with me in the backyard all summer before freshman year, and he got bloody good at it.” 

Owen pulls off his helmet. “Sorry, could you repeat that? I thought you just paid me a compliment, but I must have misheard you.”

Jamie rolls her eyes. “Prat,” she mutters, giving him a playful shove. 

Dani, meanwhile, is trying to connect the dots. “So you and Owen are…”

“Jesus, don’t finish that sentence. He’s my foster brother.” 

“I’d always dreamed of having a sweet younger sister to love and cherish. Pity we got Jamie instead.”

In response, Jamie yanks the top off her water bottle and splashes what’s left in Owen’s direction. 

She’s different with him, Dani realizes. She realizes, also, that she’s been mentally cataloguing the things she knows about Jamie, for no reason other than it being important to know your teammates’ tendencies. 

She knows that Jamie tries to look, most of the time, like she doesn’t care much about what’s happening around her. That she walks with her hips forward and a certain swagger in her step, but that underneath it there’s a tension visible in the set of her jaw, in the way the muscles of forearms flex even when she’s hardly gripping her stick with any force at all. 

And when she looks at Dani, if she looks at her at all, it’s usually a level stare—or at most a slightly raised eyebrow. But the hostility has seeped away a bit, and at least she doesn’t seem to radiate as much reflexive anger when they play together.

“Pizza at Lou’s,” Rebecca announces. “Dani, you coming?”

“Oh. Sorry, I have plans.”

“Who with?”

“Um… Eddie.”

“Who?” 

“Her boyfriend.” Jamie says.

Dani feels her face grow hot. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she says quietly. 

Jamie shrugs. “Whatever you say.” She slings her bag onto her shoulder, heading for the parking lot. 

In an instant, Dani is walking in step beside her. “That’s not— he _isn’t_ my boyfriend,” she repeats, emphatically. 

“Right. Got it.” 

“We’re just friends. We’ve been friends since we were, like, eight. That’s all.”

Jamie gives her a quick sidelong glance, then looks away as she fumbles in her pocket and produces a crumpled-looking cigarette. “I really don’t care who you’re fucking, Poppins, truly. None of my business.”

Dani’s face feels like it must be bright red by now, because, _Jesus_ , could she be any more crass? 

“Actually,” she says, quickening her pace to keep up with Jamie’s loping stride. “Actually, I _am_ free tonight.”

Jamie produces a lighter from a different pocket, sticks the cigarette between her lips and cups her hand around it as she walks. 

“Just like that, huh?”

“Yes,” Dani says, forceful and defiant. Because she wants Jamie to know that she’s her own person, that she isn’t Eddie’s girlfriend, no matter what he’s telling all of their friends at school when Dani isn’t there to correct him. And more importantly, that she can make her own decisions; that she isn’t beholden to what anyone else wants for her. 

It doesn’t occur to her, in the moment, to wonder why she cares so much about disavowing Jamie of this notion; why she cares what Jamie thinks of her at all, given how much they’ve butted heads in the first few weeks of practice. 

She just knows that she enjoys the mildly surprised look in Jamie’s eyes, the one she can’t hide even though Dani can only see her in profile—lips pursed slightly to hold the cigarette in place while she walks, cheeks still flushed from the last few drills of practice, hair spilling out of her short ponytail in a messy brown halo.

***

The day before their first game brings an overcast sky, and the threat of rain hangs in the air all afternoon. 

When the bell rings in Dani’s last class, interrupting the World War 2 documentary they’ve been watching, Mr. Pritchard pre-empts the students’ instinctive closing of notebooks by exhorting them to stay in their seats. 

“The bell doesn’t dismiss you,” he reminds them. “I dismiss you. There are only a few minutes of the film remaining.”

Dani makes eye contact with Jamie across the darkened classroom, and she looks equally stricken by this turn of events. The number one rule, in any sport, is not to be late to practice. Coach will have both of their asses if they’re not with the team for warm-ups. The _why_ of it doesn’t matter.

When Mr. Pritchard finally lets them go, they sprint down to the first floor bathroom to swap their jeans out for joggers and then head immediately for the field. But the team has already finished their laps by the time they get there, and coach has them spread out on the opposite end line to practice penalty corners.

She shakes her head at the sight of Dani and Jamie running up to join. 

“You’re late, ladies.”

“Mr. Pritchard—“ Dani tries, but coach interrupts her.

“Four laps,” coach tells them. “Of all three fields. Go.”

It’s drizzling now, the grass slick and squeaking against their cleats as they jog wordlessly toward the corner and begin the first lap. 

“This is fucked,” Jamie mutters. 

They run in silence for a while. The rain is coming down a little harder now, and it doesn’t take long before Dani’s t-shirt is clinging wetly to her torso. 

Jamie’s fringe is plastered to her forehead, dripping rain down her cheeks and off the tip of her nose. 

“You scored on me last year,” she says abruptly, as they round the varsity soccer field. “Do you remember?”

Taken somewhat by surprised, Dani shakes her head. 

“You caught a deep pass. You were way out ahead of the others.”  Jamie pauses for breath between each sentence, trying to keep her rhythm while talking. She’s not as experienced a distance runner as Dani, who’s breathing hard only because of the water dripping into her mouth as she runs.

“I’d been watching your dodges all game,” Jamie continues. “You always pull right. I was ready for it. But instead you pulled a circle dodge on me. Don’t know how,” she adds, with a grunt. “Bloody difficult unless you’re playing on turf. But you went right around me.”

Dani _does_ remember, now. It was the first time she’d ever successfully pulled off that move, and she remembers her teammates screaming from the bench, her friends pounding the metal bleachers, the satisfying _thunk_ that came after she drove the ball into the goal boards. 

“Is that why you hate me so much?” 

Jamie frowns a little. “I don’t hate you.” 

“Could have fooled me.” 

They’re on their last lap by now, rounding the soccer field again, when Jamie looks back and sees the rest of the girls packing their bags up. 

“Coach must have called off practice,” she says, slicking back her rain-soaked curls.

“I guess we could… stop,” Dani suggests.

But Jamie shakes her head. “Let’s finish,” she says, looking over to meet Dani’s gaze. “Sprint to the end. Fast as you can. Ready?”

And then they’re off, half running and half sliding through the mud, Dani windmilling her legs as hard as she can. She can feel Jamie in lockstep beside her, matching her in perfect rhythm. 

Mud splatters against the back of Dani’s legs as her cleats churn up the ground beneath her, and her lungs are burning with the cold and damp and the lack of oxygen. But the sting feels good, feels amazing even, as they round the last goal in tandem and head for the finish line.

It’s only then, a dozen yards away from the end of the sprint, that Dani remembers how much faster than her Jamie is. Dani’s the better distance runner—as a midfielder, endurance is key--but Jamie has a quicker burst, and if she wanted to she could have left Dani behind half a field-length back. She could be on her way to the parking lot already. But she isn’t.  Instead she’s here, keeping perfect pace with Dani. 

They push hard to the end line, then slow to a stop and bend over, panting hard, hands on their knees.  Dani wipes the rain out of her eyes and looks over at Jamie beside her, doing the same.

The temperature has dropped low enough that Dani can see her own breath, but she feels warmth burst open inside of her, pulsing out into her limbs, into her damp toes and her frozen fingers. Her heart is beating hard. Her clothes are soaked, her skin slick and clammy, but she feels _hot_ all of a sudden.

Then it happens: the corner of Jamie’s mouth tugs upward into a half-smile, like they're sharing a secret.

And Dani smiles back at her with a grin so big it turns into laughter.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sound of a bicycle bell gets Dani's attention, and she looks up to find Jamie pedaling toward her under the warm glow of the streetlamp.
> 
> "Would have borrowed the car, but Owen's mum is working late tonight. Anyway, can't expect a limousine if it's me you're calling… Fucking hell, how long have you been out here in that dress?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, first of all: thank you so much to everyone who gave this fic a chance even though they don't know wtf field hockey is, and especially to the people who commented! I'm sorry if this seemed abandoned--I had a draft all typed out and then the app crashed and it didn't save because my hard drive is full, blah blah, etc. So if you're still here, thank you for your patience! Andddd, as usual I have underestimated the amount of story I wanted to tell, so this will now be three parts instead of two.
> 
> Mild trigger warning for a teenage boy using the ol' d-slur. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Dani wakes up for the first game of the year with her stomach already coiling itself into knots. She's always nervous at the beginning of the season, but today it feels more intense than usual.

She can’t go next door like she did when she lived next to the O’Mara’s, where Judy would make her a proper breakfast and send her off with a hug, promising to see her later at the game. Instead she sits alone in the kitchen with a bowl of stale cereal, her mom nowhere to be found. And instead of heading to a teammate’s house so they could get ready together, tying their ponytails with ribbons in the school colors and painting black grease lines below their eyes, Dani pulls her hair into a scrunchie in front of her bedroom mirror and sighs at her reflection. 

She doesn’t look quite right in the Woodridge High jersey, with its pine green lettering and matching green kilt. She misses the navy and sky blue of Brookfield--the colors she’s wearing in all of the team photos collaging her bedroom wall. But there’s nothing she can do except square her shoulders, grab her stick bag and cleats, and head to school. 

It’s an early game, and the field is still wet with morning dew. It gives the ball a little extra zip as the team runs through their warm-up drills. Dani finds herself behind Rebecca in the passing shuttle, who gives her a fist bump. “Ready to help us get a win, Clayton?”

Dani nods but her smile is forced, and the sick feeling in her stomach won’t go away. It’s a relief when coach finally calls the huddle before the start of the game, going over field assignments and reminding them to communicate and play smart. 

As she takes her place at midfield on the right side she hears someone call her name, and she scans the sideline to find Eddie and Judy waving at her from the bleachers. She hadn’t expected to see them now that she’s playing all the way across town, and instead of feeling comforted by their presence she feels the knot in her stomach twist a little tighter. 

Dani has never been this keyed up for a game, ever, and it’s obvious from the moment the referee signals the start of play. She duffs it on her first free hit, missing the drive she’d lined up and instead chipping it pathetically right into the possession of one of the defenders. It’s so embarrassing that she almost doesn’t mind when, on the next one, Jamie shoves her aside and mutters “I got it,” before taking the hit herself.

The other team scores twice in the first fifteen minutes of the game—once off a penalty corner, and once after the opposing midfielder dodges Dani so easily that she’s able to sprint nearly forty yards before completing a perfect cross-field pass to one of her wings for the goal.

As Dani jogs back to center field, her gaze inadvertently lands on Jamie. The pinched look of frustration on the halfback’s face is almost enough to make her wince. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jamie demands, her free hand balled into a fist. “Are you just going to let them blow by you all game?” 

“Are you going to put your stick down and intercept some passes?” Dani retorts, flushed and seething.

Jamie doesn’t say anything else--she just speeds up and leans in, ramming her shoulder hard into Dani’s upper arm as she passes.

“Seriously?”

But Jamie ignores her, trotting to her field position without another backward glance. 

By halftime Dani is so demoralized that she barely even feels the sting of the bruise now blooming on her bicep. Woodridge is still trailing the away team, down two goals now after one of their wings finally scored right before the half ended.

Coach gives them all a stern talk about playing selfishly, how they need to set their egos aside and rally together as a team. Jamie and Owen bicker with one another, arguing about defensive strategy on the last penalty corner while Hannah attempts to broker peace between them. And Dani hangs back outside of the huddle, sweating and gulping down water and feeling hopelessly out of place. 

She doesn’t belong here. She _doesn’t_. It isn’t her team, she’s in the wrong uniform, and she’s messing up so badly she’ll be lucky if coach doesn’t bench her for the entirety of the second half.

“Hey,” a voice says behind her, and Dani nearly flinches as she turns around to face Jamie.

“Look, I—“

“No, listen. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I just— I get heated, y'know. In the moment.”

Dani presses her lips together and nods. 

“Let’s just forget about the first half, right? Pretend its zero-zero, go out there and play our game.” 

“I think I just don’t have it today,” Dani says miserably, staring down at her cleats. 

“You’re too in your head, that’s all. Just focus on the basics. Make the simple pass. Stay in good defensive position. Pretend it’s a scrimmage, right?”

“Thanks,” Dani murmurs. She doesn’t mention that if it _were_ a scrimmage, Jamie would be on her just as hard about every defensive slip and ill-timed pass. But she’s never heard Jamie apologize before, so she decides to take it for what it is and try to follow her advice.

Miraculously, it helps. Dani focuses on facilitating in the second half, making tackles to gain possession and then passing the ball off as quickly as possible to minimize her chances of screwing up and turning it over. Rebecca stays close whenever the ball comes Dani’s way, calling out her field position so Dani can easily find her for a through pass or a flat tap. 

They manage to rally in the end, coming back to beat the visiting team 4-3 off a long corner play in the final few minutes.  The bench empties and the rest of the team pours onto the field, cheering and knocking their sticks together as they circle up for one last huddle. Dani joins in, going through the motions, murmuring “good game, good game,” as they dap up the opposing players. But even though most Dani’s teammates seem to have forgotten her poor performance, she finds herself unable to look any of them in the eye.

The sick feeling in her stomach only intensifies when Judy and Eddie find her on the sideline, offering hugs and congratulations that ring hollow in Dani’s ears.

She waits until the field is mostly clear, just a few people lingering at the edges, and then she heads back to the shooting circle and drives ball after ball into the goal boards. She shoots until her breath comes in ragged gasps and her arms are aching.

When she finally stops, she looks up to find one figure still standing motionless in the distance, watching her.

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, bruised arm throbbing, Dani turns her back on Jamie’s distant form and lines the balls up at the fifteen yard line. 

_Again_ , she thinks, as the first one hits the boards. Quicker. Harder. _Again_. 

//

The next game, thankfully, is a huge improvement. 

It was a good week of practice, and Dani’s nerves have settled some since the previous Saturday. She feels ready this time. Focused.

On the offensive end she focuses on feeding the ball to Rebecca, who was the team’s leading scorer last season, and Bex rewards her in the second half with a beautiful drop pass that Dani sweeps in for an easy goal. 

The game is tight, a back-and-forth with the teams trading goals for most of the way. It comes down to a penalty corner after the clock has expired, with Woodridge defending. 

Having played the opposing team three times last year, Dani is familiar with the sets they like to run during corners. As the players move into position, she grabs her closest defensive teammate by the arm. 

“What?” Jamie growls.

Dani rolls her eyes, because of course it had to be Jamie. “Look. I know what they’re going to run. Stay by the post, okay?”

“Not my fucking job. I’m flying to the top of the circle, like always.” 

“The ball’s not going to the top of the circle,” Dani says impatiently. “They’re going to dump it to the side, then drive it across toward the post. Just trust me on this one, okay?”

Jamie doesn’t have time to argue; the ref is calling for them to set up their defense. Dani sprints back to midfield and takes her place behind the line with the rest of the Woodridge offense, waiting for the whistle to blow.

She doesn’t bother watching the attacker set up the play. She’s seen it so many times that she could picture it with her eyes closed. Instead she watches Jamie, waiting to see what she’ll do. 

The ball leaves the back line. Jamie doesn’t follow it. Instead she positions herself in front of the goal to Owen’s left, waiting.

It plays out in the blink of an eye—the cross-goal pass comes and Jamie is there waiting, one step quicker the attacker for whom the ball was intended. She clears it from the circle with a hard slap, and the game is over. 

As the rest of the team cheers, Jamie meets Dani’s gaze and nods. Her expression is neutral, she’s barely even smiling, but Dani feels a rush of elation. The grin she flashes in return probably looks border smug, but she doesn’t care. They won, and this time Dani feels like she can actually share in the victory. 

Owen calls for a team meal at Lou’s, and when Dani hesitates, still unsure of her social standing in the group and whether she’s included, she finds herself being steered by the elbow toward Rebecca’s boyfriend’s car. 

“It’s mandatory!” Rebecca tells her cheerfully, and Dani laughs shyly and slides into the backseat.

She finds herself squished into a corner booth at the restaurant, one hip pressed into the wall and the other pressed against Jamie’s. The team has pushed a few tables together and commandeered nearly half of the pizzeria’s empty chairs, and collectively they scrounge up enough cash for a couple of large pies. Owen orders for them, and then returns to the table juggling their change and a couple of sodas,

He slides one down the table, but when Jamie reaches for it he shakes his head. “Didn’t say that was for you, did I?”

“Who’s it for, then?” 

“Dani, obviously. For making the right call on that last corner and saving the game.” 

Jamie folds her arms sullenly across her chest, and Dani reaches over to grab the bottle. “Cheers,” she says happily, raising it in salute to Owen as if making a toast. 

“How did you know which play they’d run?” Jamie asks suddenly, twisting to look at Dani. 

“We played them a lot last year, and they only run three or four different sets. That was the only one they hadn’t tried yet, so…” She shrugs, offering Jamie a sheepish smile. 

Jamie’s mouth tugs into a smirk. “So, lucky guess then.” 

“Oh, come on. Give me a little credit. Just this once.”

“Fine,” Jamie agrees. “Just this once.” 

Dani grins in triumph, and Jamie rolls her eyes and shakes her head as laughter from the other end of the table drowns out their conversation. Dani relaxes into the ancient pleather upholstery, letting the general good mood of her teammates wash over her. For the first time since the start of the season she allows herself to forget about the pressure of fitting in and just enjoy the camaraderie--the too-loud laughter, the accidental kick from someone else’s foot under the table, the occasional dig in the ribs from Jamie’s elbow as she leans forward to shout at someone on the other end of the table. 

She’s laughing at one of Owen’s jokes, fighting to keep from spraying out an ill-timed sip of coke, when she hears someone calling her name from across the room. 

It’s Eddie, waiting in line with a couple of his friends. 

“That the boyfriend, then?” Jamie asks, following Dani’s line of sight to pick out Eddie’s lanky figure. 

“Just friends,” Dani reminds her. “I need to go say hi. Could you--?” 

“Be my guest,” Jamie says coolly, giving no sign of any intention to move out of the way.

Dani slides awkwardly across her lap, while the two girls next to her immediately stand up to give her a clear path out of the booth. “Thanks,” she says pointedly, glaring back at Jamie, who pays her no attention whatsoever. 

It’s always one step forward and two steps back with her, Dani thinks ruefully, and then puts it out of her mind as she walks up to Eddie, waving.

“Hey," Eddie greets her. "I’m glad you’re here!” He has to raise his voice to make himself heard over the general din. “I wanted to ask you about— well, we said before that we wanted to go to homecoming, and I was wondering if I should get tickets?” 

“Oh!” The question takes her a bit by surprise; she’d forgotten they’d even talked about it. “Yes. Definitely.” 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go to Woodridge instead.”

“No,” Dani says quickly. “I’d rather go with our friends.” 

Eddie smiles, looking faintly relieved. “Everyone misses you. Kayla keeps asking me whether you’ll be there. She said she called a couple of times last week, left a message with your mom, but--”

Dani sighs. “But my mom probably forgot.”

“Yeah. That’s what I told her.”

“I’ll call her,” Dani promises. “But I should go. We’re having a... team thing.” She tilts her head toward the group in the back of the restaurant, where one of the other midfielders is doing a dramatic reenactment of Owen’s last save of the game, complete with flailing arms and a facial expression mimicking that of a constipated toddler.

“Right,” Eddie says, eyebrows raised a little. “Okay, well. See you at brunch tomorrow?” 

“I’ll be there,” Dani promises, stepping back and offering one last wave before turning to rejoin her teammates. 

It takes her a minute to realize that Jamie is no longer at their table. She looks around, thinking she’d probably just gone to the bathroom, and then spies the corner of a green skirt visible through the glass of the pizzeria’s front window. 

A moment later Dani finds herself stepping outside, feet carrying her through the door without any real sense of purpose. She finds Jamie leaning casually against the front of the building, cigarette in hand.

“Good chat then?” Jamie asks, her face a mask of indifference as she turns to blow smoke away from where Dani is standing beside her.

“He asked me to homecoming.”

“Hm. Just friends, was it?” 

Dani narrows her eyes. “Why are you so interested?”

“I’m not. Told you before, I really couldn’t care less.” 

There’s a long pause. Jamie takes another drag off her cig, kicks at a pebble on the ground.

“Can I have one?”

“What, one of these?” Jamie looks surprised when Dani nods, and pulls a battered pack from her pocket. “Didn’t take you for a smoker,” she says, lighting one and handing it over.

Right on cue, Dani chokes on the first lungful as it hits the back of her throat, coughing so hard she almost doubles over.

“Christ,” Jamie laughs. “First one?”

“No,” Dani protest weakly, and then coughs again. “Okay, fine. Yes. God, that was awful.” 

“Give it here.” She flicks the remains of her first one to the ground, and places the one she’d given Dani between her own lips. “You’re ridiculous, Poppins. You know that right?” 

Dani bites at her bottom lip, smiling. “Thank you,” she says.

“For what, insulting you?” 

“For trusting me. About the last play.” 

Jamie plucks the cig from her mouth with one hand and shoves the other in her jacket pocket. She rocks forward onto the balls of her feet, tapping ash onto the concrete. “Just don’t let it go to your head, yeah?” 

“Okay.”

“Good. I’m gonna go.” 

Dani’s smile deflates. “Now?”

“Tell Owen I’ll see him at home.” 

She drops the glowing cherry onto the pavement, grinding down on it with her heel before heading off down the sidewalk with her hands thrust into her pockets. 

Dani watches her go, feeling an odd and unexpected ache bloom somewhere within her.

//

The final weeks of September fly by too quickly, taking the last remnants of summer with them. Soon the sidewalks and the edges of the field are littered with withering leaves, the temperature drops, and Dani has to start wearing gloves so the vibration of her hockey stick doesn’t sting her hands in the cold. 

She and Jamie seem to have reached an unspoken truce; no more yelling or angry, clenched-fist confrontations during practice, though Jamie certainly hasn’t eased up in intensity when they’re matched against each other during drills. 

Still, things between them are frosty in a way Dani doesn’t quite understand. Sometimes she’ll look up to find Jamie watching her from a distance, her mouth tugging into a smirk when she notices Dani staring, and it makes Dani feel caught out—like _she’s_ the one being weird, even though it was Jamie who started it in the first place. At other times there’s this odd tension between them; not angry, exactly, but _vibrating,_ like they’re both itching to pick a fight just for thrill of it.

They don’t, though. In fact, they don’t talk much at all. For the most part, unless they’re at practice or hanging out in a group, they ignore each other. Which is fine. Better than fighting. Certainly better for the rest of the team. 

Dani’s so focused on hockey and school and settling into her new routine that the week of homecoming takes her almost by surprise. It isn’t until her mom offers to take her dress shopping—a rare gesture of parental interest, not to be taken for granted—that she remembers to get excited about it.

Eddie arrives early at her house on the night of the dance, giving Judy and Karen nearly half an hour to spend forcing their children into awkward poses for the benefit of a camera. 

“A little closer, Danielle,” her mom says impatiently, even though Dani is certain she and Eddie couldn’t possibly stand any closer than they already are, with his arm around her waist and her hand perched awkwardly above her hip. 

“Oh!” Judy interjects, lowering the camera and gesturing frantically at her son. “The corsage! We forgot the corsage in the car! Don’t move a muscle— I’ll be right back.” 

Dani lets her arm drop and feels Eddie shift his weight behind her. “I’m sorry about all of this,” he says. “I didn’t have to heart to tell her you probably wouldn’t want one.”

“It’s okay.” Dani smiles reassuringly. “It’ll make her happy, right?” 

But there’s a strange heaviness that comes with the spray of flowers now adorning her wrist, and she feels nervous as she slides into the backseat of the O’Mara’s car. She wishes their mothers hadn’t made such a fuss over it all, and judging by the slightly embarrassed look on Eddie’s face she wonders if he feels the same. It’s a relief when they finally pull up in front of the school, with Judy giving them one final adoring gaze before driving away.

They give their tickets to the chaperone at the door and then make their way to the gymnasium, where the dance committee has done their best to transform the dusty basketball courts into something resembling a dance floor. Streamers are draped across every point on the wall a ladder could possibly reach, and Dani accidentally kicks a silver balloon that has come loose from the cluster forming an arch over the doorway.

“Want to dance?” Eddie asks, but Dani demurs.

“This isn’t really my song,” she says evasively, looking around at all of the couples slowly swaying to the music. She _does_ want to dance, but not to a romantic ballad. It would feel weird, she thinks—Eddie’s hands around her waist, hers draped over his shoulders, as if they were a couple.

Distraction comes in the form of one of her old teammates waving from across the room, and Dani claps excitedly. “Look, there’s Kayla!” And then she’s speed-walking her way through the knot of dancing couples, dragging Eddie along with her. 

“Oh my god,” Kayla screeches, pulling Dani into a hug. "I’m so glad you’re here! I fucking miss you."

“Where’s Michael?” 

“Oh, he went to get drinks. But god, it’s good to see you. It’s been so weird since you left. The team is a mess. Coach is practically tearing out her hair.” 

Dani laughs. “It can’t be that bad,” she says, feeling mollified despite herself.

“It _is_ ,” Kayla says emphatically. “What’s it like at Woodridge?”

“Oh. It’s um… it’s okay, actually. I—“ 

She’s interrupted by Kayla’s date returning with two cups of punch, and then there’s another yelp of excitement as Sarah wraps her arms around Dani from behind, and the three of them spend several minutes exclaiming over each other’s dresses while their dates exchange glances ranging in expression from indulgence to mild annoyance.

“I don’t know how you can stand it,” Sarah says, when they return to the topic of Dani’s new school. “I mean, that side of town isn’t exactly, well...”

“The school’s super old, isn't it?” Kayla interjects. “Like, run down. I heard the hockey field is basically a dirt patch.”

Dani’s smile falters a little. “It’s not that bad.”

“I’d be more worried about the people,” Michael says coolly, taking a sip of his punch.

“What do you mean?” 

He shrugs. “Aren’t you on a team with Jamie Taylor? Everyone knows she’s a massive dyke.” 

The gym feels too warm all of a sudden. A flush of heat travels up the back of Dani’s neck, and she opens her mouth to say something but finds herself suddenly unable to form a sentence.

“Do you have to share a locker room with her?” Sarah asks, and Kayla giggles.

“They probably make her change with the guys.”

Dani’s hands are trembling. She clutches them protectively in front of her chest. “Jamie’s my friend,” she says quietly. 

Eddie frowns. “They didn’t mean anything by it.”

“She’s my friend,” Dani repeats, voice growing a little stronger. “And she’s— she’s really cool. You guys don’t even know her.” 

“Danielle—“ 

“I think I’m gonna go,” she says, surprising herself, but as soon as the words leave her mouth she knows they feel right. Her heart is racing, and she feels nauseous as she takes a step back. “This was a mistake. I’m just… I’m gonna go.” 

She feels Eddie reaching for her as she turns away, and she only makes it a few feet before his fingers curl around her wrist. 

“Seriously, Dani, they didn’t mean it. They were just—“ 

But Dani wrenches her hand out of his grasp, and a few petals from the corsage tear free and float off onto the floor.  “Have you been telling everyone that I’m your girlfriend?” 

He gapes at her, looking stunned. “Danielle. You were the one who wanted to come tonight. _You_ said you wanted to go to homecoming together.”

“As friends.”

“You never said it like that.”

“I didn’t think I needed to!” She can hear the pitch of her voice rising in panic. .Her chest feels tight and her lungs are struggling to keep up, and she thinks that if she doesn’t get out of here right now something terrible is going to happen.

“I just— I cant, Eddie. I can’t do this. I can’t. I'm sorry.” And then she’s walking away as fast as she can, hands clenched at her sides, murmuring an apology as she nearly knocks someone over in her haste to maneuver her way through the crowded dance floor. 

She bursts through a side door into the hallway and then half-sprints across the freshly waxed linoleum, past rows of lockers and down a classroom corridor. She ducks into one at random and pulls the door closed behind her, then stands there with her back against it, panting, struggling to breathe.  _A phone_ , she thinks wildly, _I need a phone_ , and then spots one sitting on top of the teacher’s desk.

She dials the number to get out of the school’s line, and then the area code, and then stops.

Because who is she supposed to call? Not Judy or her mom, obviously. Not Eddie. Not Kayla or Sarah or any of her other friends, because they’re all here, back in the gym, probably talking about her, _laughing_ at her. 

So she dials the only other number she can think of, the one that sits right below hers on the field hockey team phone tree: the Sharmas. 

She doesn’t really expect anyone to answer, and when Owen’s voice comes on the line a moment later it almost takes her by surprise.

“Hullo?” 

Dani wipes her eyes, trying to clear away the tears that have suddenly come welling up at the corners. “Owen?”

“Dani?” 

There’s a rustling sound and a few muffled words before she hears Jamie’s voice in the background, asking what’s going on. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Dani whispers, her throat thick with panic, “but I really need a ride.” 

// 

Twenty-five minutes later she’s sitting on the curb a short distance from the front of the school, shivering in the cool night air. Her panic has abated slightly, and her eyes are dry. What she feels now, mostly, is embarrassment.

The sound of a bicycle bell gets her attention, and she looks up to find Jamie pedaling toward her under the warm glow of the streetlamp.

She's slightly out of breath, cheeks pink from exertion and cold. She's wearing an old Carhartt jacket that looks about three sizes too big, and a crooked little smile, as if she's used to this sort of thing--as if biking across town to rescue a girl from a bad date is just a normal Saturday night for her.

"Would have borrowed the car, but Owen's mum is working late tonight. Anyway, can't expect a limousine if it's me you're calling… Fucking hell, how long have you been out here in that dress?"

Dani realizes then what a mess she must look like, standing there in a knee-length gown and low heels, with the remnants of a mangled corsage on her wrist and goosebumps covering her otherwise bare shoulders. Her makeup must be horribly smudged.

"Here." Jamie shucks off her jacket and offers it to her.

"Won't you be cold?"

Jamie shrugs. "Got a sweatshirt. I'll be fine."

Too chilly to protest, Dani pulls it on. It's surprisingly soft inside, the flannel lining still warm from Jamie's body. It smells faintly of mulch and menthols.

She zips herself in gratefully, and then she waits for Jamie to ask her what happened; why she's sitting alone outside in the cold instead of dancing in a sweltering gymnasium, and why she would call Jamie of all people for a ride, when they barely even qualify as friends.

But Jamie doesn't ask any of those things; doesn't mock her or say anything condescending. She just studies Dani's face for a moment, her brow furrowed with what looks like genuine concern.

“You alright? ‘Cause you, ah, sounded pretty rough on the phone.”

Dani nods, not trusting herself to speak. She thinks that if she tries to say anything it will all come pouring out--way too much to share, way too much to burden someone else with having to listen to. Least of all Jamie, who has already far exceeded her role as begrudging teammate by even showing up.

“Right,” Jamie says with a shrug. “Hop on, then." She pats the cargo rack above the back wheel, which has been thoughtfully padded by an old cushion affixed with duct tape. "Nothing fancy, but it should do the trick."

Dani climbs on awkwardly, using one of Jamie's shoulders for balance while she arranges her dress so the fabric won't get tangled in the wheel spokes.

The only problem, she realizes as Jamie starts to peddle, is that there’s nothing to hold onto. Nothing except… well, the girl in front of her.

Who, thankfully, doesn't seem to mind when Dani slides both hands around her waist; doesn't flinch or make any sound of discomfort as Dani's arms wrap fully around her midsection. All Dani can hear is the sound of her own pulse in her ears, beating so quick and loud that she wonders—worries, for some reason—whether Jamie can hear it too.

They ride in silence for a few minutes. Dani's bare legs are freezing, but the rest of her is warm inside Jamie's jacket, warm where the tops of her thighs brush against the back of Jamie's as she peddles.

"You're doing all the work," she realizes.

"I don't mind. My legs are stronger than yours, anyway."

"Not true," Dani protests.

"An absolute fact, actually," Jamie says, smugly. "Beat you at squats last week by a landslide."

"If we weren't on a bike right now, I'd kick you."

"Probably wouldn't hurt much, your legs being so weak and all."

Dani rolls her eyes. “God, you’re insufferable.”

She can feel the quake of Jamie’s laughter, stomach muscles tensing beneath the layers of fabric that separate her midriff from Dani’s clasped hands. She laces her fingers together a little tighter, inching forward on the cushion, chin resting gently against Jamie’s hunched shoulders.

“Worried you’re gonna fall off?”

Dani shakes her head. “No. You’re just… warm.”

She can smell, again, the hint of cigarette smoke clinging to Jamie’s sweatshirt. Can feel a lock of Jamie’s hair against her own cheek, and catch the scent of her shampoo.

“Dani.”

She pulls away from Jamie’s shoulder immediately, embarrassed. _Too far_ , she thinks. _I pushed it too far_.

It was stupid of her to assume, just because Jamie came to pick her up, that it suddenly made them friends. They were teammates—nothing more. Giving Dani a ride was, as it would be with any member of the team, an act of self-interest as much as anything. If someone got into trouble it could ruin things for all of them. Clearly, Jamie had only come to make sure Dani wasn’t involved in anything that could mess up their chances in the next game.

And, Dani thinks, loosening her grip on Jamie’s waist with a sudden flash of horror, she certainly hadn’t come to be _cuddled_ pathetically by someone who just embarrassed themselves in front of half the school, and—

Jamie clears her throat. “I don’t know where you live.”

“Oh,” Dani says blankly. And then again, stifling the urge to laugh with relief. “Oh! Of course. I’m on Elm street, near, um…”

She trails off, because, _oh crap_. She absolutely cannot go home yet. Her mom will be sitting in front of the television just inside the front door, still a glass or two away from drowsy enough to sleep, and she’ll want to know why Dani came home early and why Edmund isn’t with her, and even the thought of that conversation makes her stomach clench uncomfortably.

Jamie seems to sense her hesitation. “You could come back to Owen’s,” she says, “if you need somewhere to crash for a while.”

“Really?”

“Sure. His mum won’t mind. We’re just watching movies, anyway.”

“You’re sure it’s okay?”

“S’long as you don’t mind eating half a dozen cookies, because Owen’s been baking all evening and he’ll be positively offended if you don’t help us finish the lot.”

Dani laughs. Her eyes are wet again. She ducks her face to wipe them against the shoulder of her borrowed jacket, and tries not to sniffle. “Thank you. So much. For picking me up, and…everything.”

“It’s all good. I like being owed a favor.”

They’re at the Sharma’s house fifteen minutes later, and Dani climbs down off the bike on legs that feel stiff and half-numb with cold. 

Once inside, Jamie tosses her house key in a bowl by the door as they take their shoes off. “Got Dani with me,” she calls out.

Owen appears around the corner, wearing an apron and brandishing a spatula. “Excellent! I made brownies.” 

“Christ, enough with the baked goods. You’ll make us all sick.”

"Who’s forcing you to eat them?”

“I’d love a brownie, Owen,” Dani says politely, because she’s nothing if not a courteous guest, and he beams and beckons her toward the kitchen. 

She’s halfway through her first one when Jamie reappears holding a pile of clothes.  “Thought you might like a change,” Jamie tells her, and Dani accepts the bundle gratefully.

She takes her time in the bathroom, removing the remains of her ruined makeup and washing her reddened eyes with cold water. She finds a hair tie lying abandoned on the counter and uses it to pull her hair into a ponytail, and when she emerges—wearing one one of Jamie’s t-shirts and a pair of loose grey sweatpants—she feels much more like herself. 

Owen and Jamie are in the living room, watching some blockbuster from five or six years ago. Dani settles on the floor at the foot of the couch, listening to their running commentary and mild bickering with a sharp pang of wanting that takes her by surprise.

She wishes she had what they had—a sibling or a best friend, someone who was easy to be around. She must have had it once, with Eddie. She can’t remember now when hanging out with him stopped being effortless and turned suddenly fraught with self-conscious unease; she just realized, one day, that he was looking at her like everything she said and did was imbued with some secret meaning. She’d say things—simple, straightforward things—and somehow by the time they reached his ears they’d have come to mean something she never intended. It was like he didn’t really hear her anymore; he heard what he wanted to hear instead. And i t hurts, losing the person you’ve kept calling your best friend long past the point when it stopped feeling true.

“You alright?” 

“Huh?” 

She looks up to find the other two staring at her and realizes she must have been quiet for too long. “Sorry,” she says, smiling weakly. “Long day, I guess. What were you saying?”

“Last brownie.” Owen gestures toward the plate.

Dani looks at Jamie, who very deliberately meets her gaze, before both of their hands shoot toward the plate at the same time.  Jamie gets there first, but Dani grabs at it anyway. They tug back and forth, the brownie sliding dangerously from one side of the plate to the other.

“Come on, I’m the guest.”

“Like hell you are,” Jamie growls. “Give it here.”

“Why don’t you play for it,” Owen offers, smiling slyly, and they both pause to consider. 

“A shootout,” Dani decides. “Best of five. Winner gets the brownie.”

“You’re on.” 

It’s not much of a contest, in the end. Owen refuses to participate, claiming that he wants no part of the two of them trying to injure each other, so they have to take turns playing goalie. And Dani realizes, after she’s strapped on the padding and missed the save on Jamie’s first shot by a mile, that goalkeeping is actually much harder than it looks. 

Jamie makes every shot, and Dani tears the helmet off with an exasperated sigh. “Fine,” she says. “I forfeit.” 

They split the brownie anyway, sitting on an old wooden pallet in the backyard with the plate between them.

Jamie’s curls have slipped out of their ponytail, spilling down over her eyes. Dani looks up at the sky, spotting the three stars of Orion’s belt, watching the white vapor of her breath drift away on the breeze.

“I don’t want to go home,” she confesses, her gaze sliding back to Jamie’s face.

Jamie brushes the hair away from her eyes, fixing Dani with a steady look. "So don't," she says.


End file.
